After seeing Preston’s untimely death, Asher felt raw and overly exposed. He went directly to his parents’ house.
The Rydell Family had ties with the Hayes, Reed and Starr families, and they employed workers of varying skills and talents, numbering in the dozens. They provided small, but neat cabins for some of their workers. When Asher turned twenty-one, he was ready for a change, so he moved into one of them, exchanging it as part of his salary for the work he did there. Freedom. Space. Privacy. But he was still an integral part of everything. That was his life’s mantra. In no time at all, he was learning the more intricate and time-consuming training that went into the equine shows presented in the giant, commercial-sized, enclosed arena. Intended primarily for the resort guests, tickets were available to anyone who enjoyed such shows. It kept Asher challenged and busy, never mind the thrill of the actual performances. He never conceptualized having such a job, but here it was.
Until tonight. He watched a kid die tonight while doing exactly what he was doing. Shuddering, he barely knocked as he entered his parents’ house. He often came and went as he pleased. He still considered their house as his and whatever they might be doing was totally his business.
“Aren’t you supposed to be performing tonight?”
Leaning over to slip his boots off, he glanced up as his mom walked in, having heard him enter. “I was. Something… happened.”
“What?” She stepped forward with unmasked concern on her face.
“Crap. I forgot to find out what went off. But I think someone shot a gun in the arena. It startled all the horses but Wallace, Preston’s mount, bolted and ran blindly towards the wall before turning away at the last second and throwing Preston directly into it.”
Kate gasped, holding her hand to her mouth, her eyes huge. That was how Asher felt. He shook his head. “He died instantly on impact. His body fell like a rag-doll to the ground. We all… all of us watched it.” His voice finally trembled with the unrestrained emotions. “Violet… Violet included.”
“Oh, oh, shit,” Kate cried out softly as tears instantly appeared on her face. She rushed forward and collected him against her. “Oh, Asher, that must have been so horrifying.”
He leaned down a few inches and patted her. “It was… it is. But Violet. God, Mom, she was hysterical. She refused to believe it. She wouldn’t let him go… oh, fuck! It was horrifying.” Finally, in his mother’s presence, Asher let a few tears fall. Squeezing her tightly, he tried to keep his eyelids shut.
“What happened?” AJ’s voice came from their kitchen and he stood inside the entryway.
Wiping his eyes, Asher released his mom. “Preston was thrown into a wall when a gunshot or something equally as loud, went off during the performance. The fall killed him. We all witnessed it. All of us, including the audience and Violet.”
“Ah, hell,” AJ’s voice cracked. He turned. “I better head down there.”
“I’ll come with you.” Asher and AJ walked quickly. AJ asked several questions to catch him up on the tragedy. They went first to the arena. Entering it, Asher’s stomach contracted with revulsion. Thankfully, it was empty.
They ran into Ian Rydell. After talking for a while, they sorted out the details of what to do with Wallace. The horse… damn it. It wasn’t his fault. Asher cringed as he considered the ramifications for the mount. He was as spectacular a specimen of horseflesh as any, a paint that was dappled black and white. He was a newer-to-them horse but well trained before he was put into the show. It wasn’t like he went loco and intended to kill his rider. No, it wasn’t like a feral hound with a taste for blood. The horse was not suddenly dangerous. Asher tuned out. His nerves were wrecked, and he was unable to process anymore.
AJ noticed. He set a hand on his shoulder. “You want to stay with us tonight?”
“No.” He darted a glance at Ian. “I might go to my place though. It was… so awful. I feel drained.”
Ian replied, “Take care of yourself. That was brutal. I witnessed it too. Obviously, nothing like that has ever happened here before. Don’t ever feel shy about being upset. If you watched what we did, seeing how Preston died, then you’d damn well better be upset and shaken. You might have doubts about wanting to ride again. Anyone who didn’t, would have to be a sociopath.”
He gave Ian and his dad a feeble smile, appreciating their support and acknowledgement. Yeah, he was feeling all those things. “It was also seeing how it affected Violet.”
“Yeah, that’ll probably cause some issues for all of us. Her cries. Her…” Ian’s voice trembled, and he wiped his eyes. “Yes. I can’t imagine what she and Shane and all of them are going through. I called but Allison said they needed more time. Violet was catatonic. They gave her a sedative, not knowing how else to calm her. Considering…”
They all just nodded. Yeah, considering.
He hugged his dad. AJ Reed looked like a tree with his long arms and ample girth, but he was always warm, affectionate, and kind.
Entering his place, Asher didn’t know what the hell to do. Dejected and still completely disturbed, he wandered around before getting changed. Then he just flopped on his bed and looked out the window at the dark land. He wondered why the hell things just happened like that. Why was Preston taken? He was so young. Younger than Asher even. Yet, poof. That fast. In an instant. He flipped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Of course, everyone warns you about how fast life can end. Anything can happen. Seize the day and all that suddenly had new meaning.
But who really thinks their death is going to happen? Who lives with the thought that death might come tomorrow?
Somehow, he knew this day would change not just Violet forever, but him as well.
The next two days, Asher did his chores in a robotic daze. He didn’t feel like coming to work, but knew that sitting around, staring at the walls, would only make everything worse. A distinct, dark, gloomy cloud loomed over the entire ranch. It wasn’t just imagined. People spoke softer and less often, as if they were all attending a funeral. Every time they encountered each other, or the workers, or the Rydells, or the other horse people, a brief exchange ensued. Hushed and tragic, no one dared mention what happened. No word of Preston.
Asher knew he had to call on Violet. It was the only decent thing to do. His throat swelled and his stomach fluttered and ached. What could he say to her? She was his friend and not only lost her fiancé but watched him die in graphic color. It wasn’t a kind, gentle, or peaceful experience. It was loud, chaotic and brutal. How could she go on?
He shuddered. He wondered if he could go on with all the disturbing images that kept repeating through his brain. It was an endless, horrifying loop. But for Violet, it was her life. She was so much more emotionally invested, obviously, than anyone else who witnessed it. For so many in the audience too, it was the most terrible accident. There seemed no end to the consequences that extended to the valley and beyond, but at the epicenter of it all was Violet Rydell.
His good friend.
He made that his mantra with each step as he forced himself to go to her family home. He knocked on the door of the house that Shane and Allison Rydell shared. It stood on the southern, high side of the ranch, beside the apple orchard. The residences were located at the south of the ranch and resort holdings, and the river seemed to rush towards the home that stood above the rest of it.